Subject: I Want My Son 2- Can dreams come true? Consider donating to to keep this amazing site going. Ben Highlander ________________________ CHAPTER 2 -Can dreams come true? PIERRE “Son, I saw you washing your truck today, in what you thought was the privacy of our backyard. You know, when I bought you that vehicle last year, I did it thinking of all the wonderful times you would have in it. A car is a tool that a young man can use to his best advantage, especially one as sexy as you. I was so jealous of all your friends and girlfriends that would get to share that most masculine of accessories with you. “You were quite unaware that I was spying on you. I was watching you from the first floor window, and you were dressed in just those short little denim offcuts that you’re so fond of wearing because you’re aware that you look so fucking hot in them. The pant legs barely cover your meaty asscheeks at the back, and as you move around your fuckmobile they slide down to reveal the top of your crack at them back. You constantly have to adjust yourself in the front because you turn yourself on so much. “As you get into washing your car you are a one-man strip show. At first you’re wearing your white wife-beater that hugs your boy-tits closely that I could see your nipple stand even from where I was hiding behind the curtains. Every now and then you would swipe your hand up your sexy young abs slowly and then tweak your nips because you’re so into being young. The hosepipe in your hand is like a leaking cock as you lovingly drool the water all over the parts that you had just soaped. Eventually you get soaked from a spray that connects with the car too harshly and you laugh out loud like a kid. You drop the nozzle and the fucking thing lashes like a demented snake or a cock that is shooting uncontrollably, and get drenched even more. You try to shield your istanbul travesti beautiful face with your muscular arms, exposing your hairy boy-pits to me and the world to salivate over. Finally you manage to trap the mad pipe under your foot, and you have a moment to take your shirt off. You do it so slowly, starting at the bottom, and gradually exposing your belly button with that light trail of fur to me and the world. At that point I realize I am hard and leaking in my Saturday morning sweats. I put my hand in and free my rock hard daddy cock from it’s captivity, so I can concentrate on what you are doing. “You then slide your hand in the front of your pants, almost like you just want to reassure yourself that your gorgeous young man cock is still there. You scratch your pubes, obviously itchy down there because of the hot Saturday morning sun on your body. You pull the whole shirt up until only your head is covered, exposing your hard, muscled abs to me and to anybody else that is watching. You pause like that some more. I look at your treasure trail, wishing that I could lick the sweat that gathered in your belly button. Then you lean back on the car hood to steady yourself and pull the rest of the shirt over your head. You shake your sexy hair in the sunlight like a naughty puppy and the water and sweat catches the sunlight as it scatters from your hair. “In the meantime I am rubbing my dad cock, the foreskin making slick fapping noises from all the precum that I am leaking, watching my sexy Pierre wash his fuckmobile. Once again, you slide your hand inside your shorts, and this time, because you are facing me, I can see that you definitely have a boner because you had to sort of pull your hips back as you slide the hard meat around and upward so it would be more comfortable. I can swear that I see the tip sticking out the top but it was kadıköy travesti just a bit too far to be sure, so it could just be your old man’s imagination. “By this time I am rubbing myself quite vigorously, picturing myself undoing that top button of your shorts, exposing your pubes, wet with sweat. But then you shock me by undoing that button yourself, and I can see that it is definitely your dick peeking out the top of your shorts. You are still leaning more or less back on your truck’s hood and you reach down into your shorts and pull your large, throbbing teenage cock out and with your other hand push your shorts down enough so that they are low enough to reach in and pull your balls out. “Jesus, son, you have such a sexy, juicy body and cock. By this time I am pumping my cock as if there is no tomorrow! But the show isn’t over yet. You turn around and start humping your truck’s gleaming, red fender, while sliding your shorts down over your asscheeks. Your shorts are now stretched and cupping your juicy ass upwards as you slide your hand over the melon-shaped buns while you still hump your truck as if it is a juicy cunt. But then I see you slide the index finger of your right hand between the cheeks while you pull the left cheek away with your left hand, exposing what I can only describe as the perfect hairy asshole, to me and the world. “You reach around to your mouth and slobber a whole lot of spit onto the four fingers of your right hand, and then reach around to your back door again and start in earnest, working your hole. At first just your index finger, which disappears first only to the first knuckle. You push your butt out and now I have a perfect view of your pink boy-cunt. But you want more and you are pawing at your hole like a teen possessed. Now two and then three fingers disappear and you are grinding your cock on the hood of your bakırköy travesti car. You are humping your hand backwards with your hungry hole and your cock forwards onto your truck and you have a delicious rhythm going. Forgotten is the Saturday morning task of washing your truck. Now the only thought on your mind is getting your rocks off. I see you reach onto the bonnet and grab the soap, squirt some onto the car to provide lube, and then the humping continues in earnest, getting faster and faster. I hear you begin to groan and snort as you go faster and faster and I know you must be close. You frantically work your hand deeper into your ass while trying not to miss a beat rubbing your throbbing boner against your smooth, gleaming red truck. “Then I know you’re cumming because you turn around and fist your 8 inch boy cock, facing me directly and looking right at the spot where I’m hiding behind the curtains, doing the same thing. Spurt after spurt of boy-juice arches out of your proud 19 year old fuck-stick as you thrust your hips into your soap-covered fist again and again, supporting yourself on the red fender with the other hand. Rope after rope squirts out of the gleaming tip of your throbbing boy-boner and you literally bend your knees and hump into your hand to get the best effect. “I can’t stand it anymore and I pull away the curtain to reveal myself standing doing the same thing and just then I cum and squirt rope after rope of my dad-cum against the window. It runs down the glass, the thick chunky globs being a testament to my love for you and my incredible attraction to you. You smile and slowly massage your cock through the last stages of your ebbing orgasm. “But I know this awesome fantasy can never be, it’s just wrong and I’m just a sad, perverted 45 year old man that lusts after my unobtainable, beautiful son. I wish this wasn’t just a fantasy son. I wish…” Little do you know, dad. Little do you know how I wish this fantasy, which had me cumming into my pants while I read it, was true. I decide that I have to take the chance and think of some way to let you know how much I want you.

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